My, oh my, my dearest Weisen. You are still owing me dinner. By now, your kusarian cuisine was meeting their no doubt always lingering death. And yet, were you following me deeper into the darkness, I am sure a fair Core maiden is only awaiting your arrival. Agony and pain, torture and chaos, descending into madness. This is what I am offering. Take my hand, run away with me. Come along, and my treachery is turning you a harvester of souls, a bringer of death. For centuries coming.

I am opening this for the professorship. Where is my darling Weisen?